Room 11
by likemycoffee
Summary: 'You don't know what's going to be in your room until you see it and then you realise that it could never have been anything else.' What the Doctor saw in Room 11. Minor spoilers. Theta/Koschei if you want to see it that way. Gen if you don't.


_You__don__'__t__know__what__'__s__going__to__be__in__your__room__until__you__see__it__and__then__you__realise__that__it__could__never__have__been__anything__else._

He shouldn't look. He knows he shouldn't look. He's the one who made that rule. He'd told the others to fight it if they felt drawn to a room; that on no account should they ever look inside but the Doctor was never very good at following rules; even if they're his own rules. In fact, he reflects for a moment as he turns his head towards the unassuming off white door, especially if they're his own rules.

The Doctor knew that it was his room the moment that he saw it; Room 11. Who else could it belong to? His room could never have had any other number and he knows that something terrible must be inside; something from his darkest depths; something that gives him bad dreams. What is it that gives the Doctor bad dreams? The answer of course, is everything. It sometimes feels like his darkest depths are growing deeper and darker all the time; with each passing day; with each life he fails to save.

He dreams of Martha and Rose and how they both suffered so much because they had the eternal misfortune to fall under his spell; more often though he dreams of Donna and everything she did – everything she sacrificed to save the world and how she can never ever know it. He dreams of Captain Jack and wakes up screaming. He feels sick about what happened to Jack and he knows that there is so much more pain in store for him in the billions of years ahead.

He sometimes dreams of Amy and Rory and River and Sarah Jane – another young girl who'd never stopped waiting for him and then sometimes – and to his eternal shame, less often in the last few years than before – he dreams of Susan, his lovely Susan and how she'd slept in that little cot on the TARDIS and how he'd sworn to always protect her but in the end he'd left her behind too.

The Doctor dreams of all these things and more. He knows that any one of them could be waiting for him behind the door in Room 11. He knows it could even be all of them. He knows he shouldn't look.

The Doctor creeps closer to the door and reaches out slowly placing his hand on the brass doorknob. He turns it slowly, knowing that he shouldn't, hearing the voices of his tutors from his Academy days echoing in the back of his mind. _'__It__is__forbidden__to__interfere,__Theta__Sigma.__Time__Lords__are__sworn__to__watch;__to__observe__and__nothing__more.__Your__meddling__will__cause__nothing__but__trouble.__It__will__be__the__death__of__you,__Theta__Sigma__mark__my__words.__'_

The Doctor hadn't listened then and he has no intention of listening now. He turns the doorknob and the door swings open.

The room is in darkness but a shaft of light from the hallway offers enough illumination for the Doctor to see clearly what is inside Room 11. There are two single beds, separated by a small bedside table. The bed on the far side of the room, nearest the window is empty; neatly made as if by a chambermaid that very morning. The bed nearest the door however, is occupied. A young boy is lying under the blankets, though his face is turned away, the Doctor knows immediately, with absolute certainty who it is lying in that bed.

As if disturbed by the light from the doorway the boy turns his head and stares at the Doctor while at the same time, seeming to look straight through him. It's a face he hasn't seen in such a long time. The boy doesn't speak. He doesn't have to. The boy begins to move his hand, tapping a rhythm on the mattress as he lies on his side, staring at the Doctor with eyes so full of fear, anger, confusion and pain – all of which the Doctor knows he is responsible for putting there because he'd left. He'd taken away the only thing had given the boy in the bed strength to fight his demons. He'd run away and the demons had consumed the boy; his boy. His Koschei.

_One,__two,__three,__four_ the boy tapped with his fingers. _One,__two,__three,__four_.

'Of course,' the Doctor said softly. 'Who else?'

It was obvious now he thought about it. There really was no one else it could have been but him. The boy who'd haunted his dreams for so long. The boy who he'd loved and hated and loved all the stronger; his best friend and his worst enemy; the Time Lord who'd become the Master who'd tried so hard to destroy him and then fought so hard to save him. The one that the Doctor had broken the most completely and yet never stopped hoping could be fixed.

The Doctor closed the door. He knew that Koschei wasn't really there. He was a trick of his mind but even so, the Doctor still wanted to protect him; to save him. He knew he always would want that.

He placed the do not disturb sign on the doorknob. That was all he could do for now. Today was not the day to save Koschei but that day would come. Whatever the future may bring the Doctor had never lost his faith that Koschei could one day be saved.

Everyone needed something to believe in.


End file.
